A Moment of Change
by Tadpole24
Summary: "Your family tree will never cease to amaze me." Captain Swan after Henry gets his memories back. Post Wicked Witch.


_**My dear Silke asked for Emma and Henry's confrontation after he had his memories returned and Hook comforting Emma. Hope this lives up to standards, dear!**_

…

A Moment of Change

…

Over the course of the past few months, he had gotten used to coming and going in her apartment as he'd pleased. When the threat looming over them was the Wicked Witch, they'd very soon found out that a locked door, even one equipped with August's handy work, wasn't going to keep out a damn thing.

So today, when he arrives, he pushes the door open like he would have less than a day ago and immediately regrets his decision.

Henry storms past him and up the set of stairs to his bedroom, not a moment of acknowledgement spared for the pirate. Emma chases after him a second later, her voice loud and full of regret, "Henry, please. I only wanted what was best for you."

And the pirate feels as though he's walked in on a very private moment.

A voice carries down from the top of the stairs, "Then you should have told me. I'm grew up knowing I was adopted. My life wasn't perfect, but it was good." He pauses, "It _is_ good."

"I just wanted you to have the happy life we had in New York for a little longer. We couldn't bring your memories back without breaking the curse and making you believe in fairy tales was…"

He cuts her off, "Was what, mom? Too much trouble?" His voice is defiant and sure, "I was ten when I came and got you. And I was terrified of what you would think of me, of how you would react. Every possibility crossed my mind, but you accepted me because we're family. You learned to believe and in the end you saved me." Killian hears shuffling and assumes Emma is trying to approach her son, "You keep saying you did what you did because you wanted to protect me. But really, you've just made me feel unsafe in my own skin. I'm so unsure of my own memories."

Emma's tone is pleading, "Henry, please…"

"You know, for someone who hates lies so much that you crafted your superpower to spot them a mile away, you sure know how to spin your own."

A door slams and a moment later Killian hears the sound of a body slump against it, the fight obviously leaving Emma as her son's words sink in.

Henry had regained his memories less than a day ago and to say it had been rough would be the understatement of the century.

"I'm so sorry, kid," Emma whispers against the closed door.

There's a long pause and then, "I love you, mom. Just let me hate you a while."

Killian can practically hear her heart breaking as Emma pushes off the door with a shaky sigh, descending the stairs and going straight to the rum sitting on the top shelf of a cabinet in the kitchen. If it weren't for her pulling out two glasses, he might have thought she hadn't even noticed him.

He pulls out a seat for her at the table, but she bypasses that entirely and makes a beeline for the couch. Leaving an appropriate gap between them, he sits by her, but as she hands him his drink, she moves closer, bringing her feet up onto the seat and facing him. When he looks at her curiously, she merely shrugs, "I think it's about time I started to acknowledge what's going on here."

They clink their glasses together, each sipping while holding the other's gaze.

"And what _is_ going on here, lass?"

Her eyebrows quirk at the question, "Drinks."

He smiles a small smile, "Aye." If that's all she can handle calling the looming relationship between them, then he'll go with it.

It feels so natural to just sit with her, even if they're usually surrounded by chaos and the stuff of nightmares, these relaxed easy moments feel right as well.

"I apologise for intruding…" he starts, not really sure if it can be classed as that when he's been welcome in the apartment since they've been back from New York.

But she raises her hand, reaching a foot out to tap against his leg in protest, "I'm the one who should be sorry. I've put you in the middle of my lies and Henry is really good at holding a grudge." She tilts her head, "Though, to be fair, it's not without reason."

She goes to retract her foot, but his eyes meet hers and he instead grasps her ankle and places her limb across his lap. She's never needed permission from him to get closer because he's always wanted it, but the next move she makes feels dangerous and she waits for his nod before extending her other leg, planting her feet on the other side of him and pulling herself forward on the couch, their sides brushing.

He reaches an experimental arm behind her and holds her in close, her head resting on his chest, "There are things a parent must do to protect their child. Your lad will grow up to realise you only cared too much about him, which is far better than the alternative."

She hears him take a long sip from his drink and she mimics him, grateful for the burn of the alcohol on her lips. She knows that he's right, his wisdom coming from centuries of experience, and she's learned to listen to him. Beyond his obvious affection is something deeper and she's finding, in these moments where she's so unsure of herself, that having that support is giving her a level of comfort she never thought she'd have within her life.

"Thank you," she whispers against his chest, turning her head just slightly and letting her lips touch his skin, "I know I've been evasive about what happened yesterday..."

He sets his tumbler down on the table by the couch, his fingers, cool from the glass, reaching under her chin and tilting her head up, "We both know what it is that broke this curse, _love_." His emphasis sends shivers down her spine, "I am willing to discuss it at your leisure. My feelings will not dissipate if there are more pressing matters to be dealt with."

The fact that he knows how much her son means to her has a wave of warmth washing through her and settling deep in her belly, kick starting a burning desire right through to her bones. It's a real show of his love for her that he's willing to wait to talk about their very important kiss. His maturity has her wondering why it took her so long to realise that he means so much on the first place.

She leans away from him, setting her drink down and coming back to bring her hand up to his cheek, thumb grazing his scruff with a fascinated curiosity, "Who'd have thought we'd finally have this moment of peace?"

Only yesterday their world had been crashing in around them, the entire town had been in the grips of war, the hospital barely able to cope with the mass of injuries, let alone Snow White's ill-timed labour. And in the midst of it all, Zelena's curse was threatening them all to a fate much worse than memory loss. A potent sleeping curse for all who stood in the way of David and Snow's baby.

And the damn pirate had definitely found himself caught up in the way.

Emma had flung herself out of the grips of a flying monkey with a disturbingly familiar neck scar and her eyes had landed on the Wicked Witch looming over Killian, her hand outstretched, her lips pursed to blow the contents towards him in a haze of green smoke.

His sword had fallen, but the sound hadn't reached her, blood rushing in her ears, adrenaline kicking in with force as she had charged towards the falling pirate. For the witch's part, a loud cackle could be heard as her broom materialised and she flew over the whole scene, taking in her handy work.

"Resistance will do you no good," she had bellowed out over the town, everyone turning their eyes skyward and watching her pull more of her special mix of slumber from thin air. A sleeping curse embedded in poppy powder – a sure-fire way to ensure a clear path to Snow White and her child.

But Emma had seen a possibility, something no one else had thought of. She had done it before and she could do it again. Vocalising it was all too much at the time, but sinking to her knees beside the leather clad figure had been easy. And kissing him had been easier than that.

His answering gasp had her smiling as it was, but as he'd pulled back to see what was happening, his eyes had widened and he'd clutched at Emma's jacket, pulling her into his chest. She'd caught a peek out of the side of his strong embrace and made the assumption that every curse must be different, because she did _not_ remember seeing a tornado ripping through Storybrooke after the last curse had broken.

Bruised and battered bodies had fallen where they stood, their simian forms taken from them with the winds. As for the witch, her laugh had turned to a scream as she had been flung back to where she had come from.

"No, it seems remarkably impossible that this all happened only yesterday." She can feel his breath on her cheek as he speaks, only heightening that feeling in the pit of her stomach that's telling her they may never get another moment like this.

Her thoughts go to that split second decision of kissing him yesterday and how simple it had been. There had been no question about it. It had worked to save her son and it had to work to save her pirate.

With a quick smile she leans in those last few inches between them and kisses him again. It's the first time they've had no pressure around them and, if the way he reacts is any indication, she could get used to this.

His arm lowers down her back, pulling her closer still, his mouth opening under hers and tasting her lips. The hand on his cheek pushes back into his hair, fingers running through the dark strands and relishing of the feel of him making her body come alive.

She follows his insistence when his other arm wraps around her waist and lifts her until she takes the hint and settles her knees on either side of his thighs, straddling him. The new angle gives her better access to his skin, kissing her way down his jawline and to his neck while his hand travels up and down her back, eventually slipping under the fabric of her thin sweater.

The heat between them is tangible, flames licking at their skin with every burning touch. She had wondered if every kiss would be like this, if every time would leave her heaving for breath before she'd even removed a layer of clothing. If the way she's arching into him is anything to go by, then yes, the desire is never dissipating.

His hand moves around to the front of her, cupping her breast over her bra and squeezing gently as she rolls her hips down into his and a low groan escapes him.

The sound awakens something in her, primal and fierce and she wants nothing more than to rip his clothes off him and have him take her right here, on the couch. But it also brings her back to reality, breaking through their haze and reminding her that she has a son upstairs.

He's looking at her with scared eyes and she leans in to peck his lips once more, her pelvis inadvertently pushing against his again. He rolls his thumb over her nipple in retaliation and she rolls her eyes, "I don't need to give Henry any more reasons to be mad at me."

Killian nods, reluctantly pulling his hand from her chest, "Right you are, lass."

She pushes herself off his lap, standing up and straightening her clothes, "If you promise to behave, you can stay the night." There's still an uncertainty in her voice, like she's unsure that he'll want to stay. The threat of being left behind is just something she's not going to be able to shake for a while.

But, lucky for her, he wouldn't dream of leaving, "Captain's honour."

She smiles and grasps his hand as they start walking upstairs and towards her room. Her eyes glance at Henry's door, still closed and still breaking her heart, but she knows she has to allow him this time and let him be mad at her. As much as it kills her.

"I hope he still lets me take him back to the hospital tomorrow for another visit to his new uncle."

She wonders why Killian is quiet for a moment before turning around and seeing that he's still trying to work it out. Upon seeing her catch him, he shakes his head, "Your family tree will never cease to amaze me."

She thinks of Henry and his extended family and all the things he has gained from this life, his real life. It really is irreplaceable and hiding it from him suddenly makes no sense at all.

Her newfound clarity has her smiling as she crawls under her blankets and, when he slides in next to her, he can't help but ask, "And what has you so happy now, Swan?"

She looks over at him, tangling their feet below the blankets, "You play your cards right, pirate, and it could be _your _family tree too."


End file.
